


Out of the Woods

by tablelamp



Category: Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, M/M, Post-Episode: The Way Through the Woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19286860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablelamp/pseuds/tablelamp
Summary: “Sir,” Lewis said before they’d got far, “I left my jacket.”





	Out of the Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M J Holyoke (wholeyolk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholeyolk/gifts).



“Sir,” Lewis said before they’d got far, “I left my jacket.”

“I know,” Morse said. He could already tell the particulars of this situation were going to haunt him. If he’d driven a bit slower, if he’d failed to notice Lewis’s jacket, if he’d got to the wood later, if, if, if.

“D’you think we could pick it up on the way?” Lewis asked.

Morse would never understand Lewis. He’d come face to face with his mortality and emerged triumphant, and he was worried about his jacket. “I think it’s fine where it is at the moment.”

“No, sir,” Lewis said. “I mean if we don’t get it now, I don’t think I could go back there.”

That did startle Morse. It was vanishingly rare for Lewis to admit he couldn’t do something. It probably would be better for him to go back now, before today’s memories had hardened into something ugly, fearful, and permanent.

“All right,” Morse said gruffly. “But don’t expect me to be your taxi service from now on.”

That made Lewis smile. Good. “No, sir.”

When they arrived, Lewis moved to get out of the car, but Morse rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get it. You’d probably get blood all over it.”

Lewis looked down, expression turning queasy once he saw the truth of Morse’s statement. “Your car! I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Well, I wasn’t going to leave you there, was I?” Morse snapped. Acting cross covered a multitude of sins. “Stay where you are until I come back.”

Lewis nodded, leaning back against the seat.

Morse procured the jacket without difficulty, draping it over the back of his seat. He told himself it was to stop Lewis getting blood on it, but it was also because he wanted some piece of Lewis close to him now, and the genuine article was highly unlikely. He’d have to settle for a jacket.

“Now,” Morse said. “We’ll go back to mine so you can clean up.”

“Thank you, sir.”

And there it was again, the ever-present frustration. “That’s another thing, Lewis. I don’t care much for all this ‘sir’ business at the moment.” He could never decide, when he was thinking about these things, whether he wanted Lewis to call him by his first name or not. Sometimes it seemed a good idea and sometimes it seemed unbearably sentimental, although of course the two weren’t mutually exclusive.

“Sorry,” Lewis said. “Bit of a habit.”

“Some habits ought to be broken,” Morse said.

“Like you and opera?”

Morse turned to look at Lewis, who looked back at him innocently. “Do I detect a note of cheek?”

“Only a note, sir?” Lewis asked.

That made Morse laugh in spite of himself.

Once they were inside, Morse directed Lewis to the towels and so forth, and Lewis progressed to the shower. After twenty minutes, however, when Lewis still hadn’t emerged, Morse knocked on the door.

“I’ll be out soon as I can,” Lewis answered, but his voice sounded uncertain.

“Don’t bother. I’m coming in,” Morse said, summoning his most professional demeanour before entering the room where the object of his affection was almost certainly naked.

Lewis was naked, and sitting in the bath, looking a bit bewildered as the shower rained on him.

“What’s the matter?” Morse demanded.

Lewis shook his head. “My legs just went.”

“That’ll be the shock.” Morse considered the situation for a moment. “Do you think you could stand with my help?”

“I’ll get you all wet,” Lewis protested.

Morse drew himself up to his full height, which was not that high unless you were Lewis and you were sitting down. “I have been wet before.” He reached over to turn off the shower first, then crouched beside the bathtub. “Take hold of my arm. Lean on me if you must, but remember, if I injure myself, I’ll have them take it out of your paycheck.”

Lewis didn’t even smile at that. The full weight of the situation in Wytham Woods must have hit him at last. Morse offered his arm, and Lewis clung to it, and somehow they managed to get Lewis to his feet. Lewis was barely out of the bathtub when his legs seemed to give way underneath him and he fell against Morse.

“Sorry,” Lewis said.

“Don’t be absurd,” Morse said, changing position so he could help walk Lewis into the other room. Being wet and in shock wasn’t good for anyone. “We’ll find you a blanket.”

After a blanket was procured and Lewis was sitting suitably swaddled on the sofa, Morse sat beside him. “I expect tea will help.”

“No tea,” Lewis said faintly. “Just sit with me? Please?”

Of course he would. “All right.”

After a while, Lewis spoke again. “Why did you do it?”

He was going to have to be more specific. “Do what?”

“Tell her to shoot you,” Lewis said. “She would’ve done, you know.”

Morse nodded. “I know.”

Lewis looked bewildered. “Then why?”

Morse glanced at Lewis. “I should think that was obvious.”

“Don’t do that,” Lewis said. “Not for me.”

Utterly exasperating. “And why not?”

“Because then I’d have to miss you!” Lewis said, looking as if it were the simplest answer in the world.

“And you think I would feel any better missing you?” Morse asked.

They looked at each other in utter silence for a long while, and then Morse stood. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Wait,” Lewis said, catching his hand.

What a sad old romantic he was, that even a brief touch from Lewis could make his heart beat faster. Morse turned.

“I’m still cold,” Lewis said.

Morse wasn’t sure where this was going. “Do you want another blanket?”

“I saw something on telly about sharing body heat,” Lewis said hesitantly.

This sounded like the beginning of a film shown in a theatre where the audience took pains not to look at each other. Morse assumed he was missing the point. “Did you?”

Lewis nodded. “Of course, you’d have to take off your clothes too. Being wet and all.”

Morse could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He didn’t seem to be hallucinating, and he was awake. Lewis, his Lewis, wanted to be intimate. There was no other explanation.

“I suppose I could manage that,” Morse said, shedding his jacket, moving slowly in case Lewis changed his mind or told him he’d misunderstood.

“Wait,” Lewis said, turning so he could see better. “I want to look at you.”

Morse bit back the retort that he most certainly did not. “I understand.” His hands were shaking such that buttons were a near impossibility, but Lewis’s appreciative expression and obvious enjoyment of the situation made him bold enough to continue.

When Morse was fully undressed, Lewis beamed and opened the blanket in silent invitation. Morse wasted no time.

“May I touch?” Morse asked, wanting to be sure he was taking nothing for granted.

Lewis smiled. “I wish you would.”

Morse ran his hands up Lewis’s chest and then down along his arms. “You may not know, but I’ve wanted to do this for quite some time.”

“I may be slower than you, sir,” Lewis said affectionately, “but I get there in the end. Can I touch you?”

Morse sighed heavily. “Not can you touch me, Lewis. I assume you’re physically able to touch me. The question you want is MAY you touch me, and yes, you may.”

Lewis laughed, leaning forward to whisper in Morse’s ear. “May I tell you a secret?”

Morse’s thoughts, ordinarily organised, were pelting round his mind in the most disorientating way. “Tell me.”

“I knew that already about can and may.” Lewis’s voice lowered. “I like it when you get all sarky with me.”

That was unexpected, but also rather thrilling. “I imagine you like me much of the time, then.”

“I do,” Lewis said. “Now. May I touch you?”

Morse nodded, entirely bereft of words.

As it turned out, Lewis’s detective work was good, but Lewis’s dexterity and creativity with his hands and fingers was superb. For the first time in a long while, Morse had no complaints at all.


End file.
